<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>i'm well aware i write too many songs about you by thewordshatter</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24375658">i'm well aware i write too many songs about you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewordshatter/pseuds/thewordshatter'>thewordshatter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Anxiety, Established Relationship, Harry Styles Misses Louis Tomlinson, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Break Up, Reunions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:00:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,011</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24375658</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewordshatter/pseuds/thewordshatter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In light of the reunion coming in July, ex-boyfriends Harry and Louis *should* clear the air, right?</p><p>or... Louis and Harry write albums for each other, even though they broke up two years ago, and both of them are hesitant to admit it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i'm well aware i write too many songs about you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I had this idea last night and I stayed up all night cranking it out, so I hope y'all enjoy. Also, I thought my fanfic days were WAY behind me, but here we are. I hate the idea that Harry and Louis are broken up, but I couldn't drop the idea so I just had to write this.<br/>Mentions of coronavirus, by the way, but it's not a biggie. I'm also not insinuating that Harry and Louis would ignore social distancing and such restrictions that are set in place (at least in my state), but it wouldn't work for the story if they complied, so I ignored it.<br/>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I don’t- Mum, I don’t think I can face him anymore. Not after everything that happened,” Harry says into the phone, rubbing his free hand over his face and trying to keep his panic from seeping into his voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Darling, you’ve always been very strong. I know you’re worried, but I think you should at least try to talk to them. You don’t have to interact with him, if you can help it. It doesn’t have to go anywhere, but this reunion is something your fans deserve - just talk to the other boys, see what they have in mind, but if it’s too much for you, you don’t have to do anything. I just think it would be nice to give your fans a proper goodbye after so long.” Anne’s reassuring tone and words have never failed to calm Harry down, not once, but this time is different. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If it wasn’t for him, you know I would be all in on the reunion, but I don’t think I can do it. It’s been two years of nothing, just radio silence and-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Harry,” his mother interrupts in a scolding voice. “Talk to them once or twice. They have your best interests at heart, they’ll understand if you can’t go through with this. Give it a try for Niall and Liam, at least.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry sighs. “Fine. I’ll try, but don’t expect anything great, Mum. I’ll ring you later. I love you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Love you too, sweetheart. Bye.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry pulls the phone away from his ear and hands up, tossing it onto his living room sofa before the screen even has a chance to fade to black. He rubs his hands over his eyes, sighing again, more deeply this time. He stands in the living room for minutes, chewing on his bottom lip and returning the look his silent phone seems to be giving him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to be a part of this reunion, right? After all, they were a band for five years. No one knew him better than those boys for five years.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well. One of those boys knew him a bit better than the rest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He unsuccessfully shakes thoughts of the reunion out of his head and moves on to make himself dinner. He leaves his phone on the sofa, ignoring its periodic buzzing as unsuccessfully as he had ignored his own thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He eats in silence, which is rare for him. He isn’t in the mood to listen to music while he eats, like he usually does.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The time comes, though, after he finishes eating and cleaning up his dishes, when he has to pick his phone back up and look at all the notifications he missed during his meal. A boatload of them aren’t worth responding to right away - just emails, texts about the fate of his solo tour due to the pandemic, other notifications. They aren’t what he’s looking for. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry takes a deep breath and clicks on the messages that Niall had sent him over the last day or so.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey mate! Liam and I were talking and we think all us boys should get on a FaceTime and chat about what’s comin up in July :)”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got Louis on board! Liam’s working on Zayn. Are you coming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zayn isn’t sure if he wants to, yet. I told him you hadn’t responded yet. He said he’d come if you did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgot to turn off your read receipts, mate?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After that, Niall had taken it upon himself to text Harry every half-hour for five hours. Nothing meaningful was said in those texts, Harry notices. It was just “Harry”, “Harry”, “Harry” over and over again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry types out a quick response, a simple “What time would the call be?”, noticing that his hands are shaking. He sends the text and waits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The response is quick, like Niall was gearing up to send him another “Harry” text right when Harry responded - “Around 3 tomorrow. Is that good?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry lets out a breath and sends Niall a thumbs-up instead of a proper response. Being aloof makes him feel more in-control of whatever is going to happen the next day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>__________</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry wakes up early - or did he even go to sleep at all? His nervous energy keeps him busy: he works out, he cleans his house, he goes on a run, he does a bit of gardening, he takes a shower, then he makes himself a late lunch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When it’s twenty minutes until three, Harry stands, walks to his office, and does some cleaning up of his surroundings so he isn’t too embarrassed by the way his house looks while on the call. He decided last night (or was it this morning?) to answer the call on his computer, though his phone would allow him more maneuverability if he got too restless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sits down in his office chair with about five minutes to spare and spends all that extra time staring at the screen in anticipation of the FaceTime call he had agreed to attend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The call comes in right on time, but Harry won’t allow himself to answer it right away. He lets it ring four or five times before he accepts the invitation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-Then I’ll do a lot worse than egg your fucking house, Payno” is the first statement Harry hears when he joins. Harry’s heart stops after hearing Louis’s voice for the first time in over two years and yearns for more after it’s cut off by...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Harry!” is the second, coming from a more familiar, Irish, voice. “Wasn’t sure if you were coming at all, mate! You never told me a yes or a no,” Niall’s weak tease about how bad Harry is at responding to his messages is swallowed by a loud laugh that seems to leak from Niall’s mouth as he speaks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry smiles sheepishly and tries to avoid looking at the small square that contains Louis’s face. “I wasn’t sure if I was coming either,” He admits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s good that you did come. Now we can try to convince Zayn to come to the next one.” Liam grins.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where is Zayn? I thought he was coming if I did?” Harry asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Couldn’t make it,” Niall waves his hand and rolls his eyes. “Didn’t fit with his schedule. I think he didn’t come cuz he didn’t know if everyone was on board yet - now that you’re here, and everyone’s on board, we can get everyone back for the reunion!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry feels his stomach drop when he hears Niall assume that ‘everyone was on board’. Harry is still, very much, NOT ON BOARD… but he doesn’t have the heart to admit that to Niall, since the other man is so happy and smiley.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, though, big congrats for the music video, Harry! I watched it when it came out, it looked great. Really sick,” Liam jumps in, and Harry has a feeling that he had noticed the change in Harry’s demeanor at the mention of the reunion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Niall barely notices the change in topics, just glad that they’re all on the line together, and jumps in with enthusiasm like he always did: “Yeah! I never really eat watermelon, but it looked tasty. And I liked your sunnies, too, the hearts? Those were cool, I think I’d like to get a pair for myself. Hey, Tommo, you’re uncharacteristically quiet, did you watch it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry finally allows himself to look at Louis’s square. When he looks, though, he’s not sure if he can look away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Louis is wearing THE jumper. The jumper that Harry happily let Louis steal from his closet all those years ago, the jumper that Harry said looked better than any other item of clothing on Louis. The jumper that Harry had been inspired by when he and Louis broke up the second time, that he had written his single most heartbroken line of Love You Goodbye about. To make matters worse, Louis had finished the song for him in a more beautiful way than Harry ever could have.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not only is he simply wearing The jumper, he knows what he’s doing. Harry knows that Louis is looking at him through the other side of the screen, scanning his face for a glimmer of a reaction, rather than watching the other boys.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a quick silence where Harry and Louis’s eyes meet, or seem to meet, through the screen and Harry’s head is ringing with “</span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t let me</span>
  </em>
  <span>” and “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’d do anything to save it</span>
  </em>
  <span>” and “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I want you here with me</span>
  </em>
  <span>” and “</span>
  <em>
    <span>we’re not who we used to be</span>
  </em>
  <span>”. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I watched.” Louis speaks for the first time since Harry joined the call. For a second, it looks like that’s all he’s going to say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-” Liam starts, but Louis decides to continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Did you really film it on our beach? The one from What Makes You Beautiful, I mean,” Louis fumbles over his second sentence like he didn’t mean to say “our” in the way that Harry took it, and the way that Harry knows he meant it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I did. I didn’t think anyone would notice but… they did…” Harry trails off, suddenly becoming very interested in the “V” button of his keyboard. Louis knows what the beach means to him (to them?) and everyone knows what he said Watermelon Sugar is about. Harry mentally chides himself, realizing how stupid he was to admit the connection to Louis, of all people.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of music videos,” Niall interjects. “Yours was great, Louis. Loved the mannequins of us. It’s funny, you know, cuz you were taller than some of them but we all know the truth, buddy. You can’t hide your height from us.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Louis laughs shortly as Niall winks clumsily and the noise is like music to Harry’s ears - though he hates himself for it. “Shut up, Niall, I’m big and you know it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Height aside,” Liam talks over a protesting Niall. “Your album is really great, Tommo. I’ve got a song or two on most of the playlists I’ve been listening to, lately. You always were the best writer of the five of us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Louis scoffs, but Harry knows he’s really just touched by the compliment. “Only when I have the right inspiration,” Louis says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re too modest, mate.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry is happy to sit back and watch the banter happening between the boys who used to be his world, but for some god-forsaken reason, Niall won’t let him. “You give it a listen, H?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry notices how Louis seems to sit up straighter when Niall asks his question. Harry knows he can’t lie to the other boys, but he’s disappointed in his answer: “No, I haven’t yet… I’ve been meaning to, it’s on the playlist I keep for music that I need to listen to, but I just… haven’t gotten around to it yet. I’ll try to later, though, before our next call.” Harry feels even worse when he sees Louis shrink into himself a bit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The call continues for two hours or so and with each passing minute, Harry is less anxious about the reunion. Maybe his mother was right, maybe it won’t be so bad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the call finally ends, Harry sits at his desk, engulfed by feelings, both positive and negative, all revolving around having seen Louis again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks happy - but is he? Harry hasn’t talked to him properly in years and doesn’t have the slightest clue about what was going on in Louis’s life. Maybe he is happy, but Harry certainly isn’t. Especially not after that call… he’s been sucked back into the emotional state he was in when he wrote Two Ghosts back in 2014, the first time they broke up, and then again in 2015 with Love You Goodbye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s been two years since they gave up trying to be anything at all, when he was at his worst, but even after all that time, he’s still so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> hopelessly fucking empty without Louis.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He goes through the rest of his day on autopilot, not allowing himself the courtesy to feel anything until his head hits his pillow on his far too empty bed. He’s not ashamed of it, but he isn’t proud to admit that he cries that night, wishing for a relationship that is so far gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>__________</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few days later, Harry remembers that he promised to listen to Louis’s album. Not one to break a promise, he turns on the album in the background while he cooks a bit, trying out a new recipe that he found. It was Harry’s initial intention to barely listen to the album and mention that he listened to it quickly during the next FaceTime call, which was scheduled for sometime the following week. Harry succeeds, at first.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nearly drops the knife he’s mincing his vegetables with and almost cuts himself when he hears the words “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Princess Park</span>
  </em>
  <span>” erupt from the speakers, followed closely by “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll always need you</span>
  </em>
  <span>”. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry stops everything and pauses the music, his eyes wide. His hands clutch at the sides of the marble countertop as “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Princess Park</span>
  </em>
  <span>” repeats in his head over and over again, like a chant. It’s not like Harry would forget the name of the place that he and Louis lived when they were young and in love, right? And why would Louis…?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>We will find a way</span>
  </em>
  <span>” and “</span>
  <em>
    <span>the look on your face when I let you go</span>
  </em>
  <span>” and “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I need something, tell me something</span>
  </em>
  <span>” echo in Harry’s mind and bounce around in his head until he’s short of breath and needs to lie down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Having abandoned his food, Harry lays on the couch and stares at his phone. He debates whether or not to replay the album and listen more carefully or ignore this sinking feeling that Louis might’ve written a song for him, but decides on the former and closes his eyes, dreading what he secretly wants to hear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry holds his breath when he hears Too Young, he wraps his arms around himself to keep from shaking when he hears Walls, he tries to stop the tears from leaking out of his eyes but fails when he hears Habit, and he sobs when he hears Always You, his heart aching and breaking and wailing for more when the album stops playing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can’t do anything but continue to lay there as the minutes and silence drag on. Finally, his feet move of their own accord and he sees himself throwing away the soiled food that he left out, as if he isn’t even in his own body anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His body curls up in his bed, which feels even lonelier than it normally does, while his heart repeats: “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry that I hurt you</span>
  </em>
  <span>” and “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I didn’t know no better</span>
  </em>
  <span>” and “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I watched them all come falling down for you</span>
  </em>
  <span>” and “</span>
  <em>
    <span>for every question ‘why’, you were my ‘because’” </span>
  </em>
  <span>and “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll always need you</span>
  </em>
  <span>” and “</span>
  <em>
    <span>it was always you</span>
  </em>
  <span>”.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It takes hours (and an eternity) for Harry to feel like he’s back in his body, but just because he’s back on Earth doesn’t mean he’s feeling better. His bones are aching and his limbs are heavy, his head feels like he’s held his breath underwater for too long, and his heart is shattered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It takes him two more hours and a lot of convincing to ‘get over himself’ before he types out the text that could be his downfall (or his new beginning?) and almost quits again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He closes his eyes, presses send, and throws his phone down on the bed so he can avoid his own actions. He regrets it immediately, wishing he could take back the text, even though he really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> wants to see what happens next.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He picks up the phone and rereads the message, making sure he didn’t profess anything he didn’t mean to say, but it says exactly what he typed out, a simple and breezy, yet inconspicuous: “I listened to it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry shrieks when typing bubbles show up on his screen and he throws his phone down again, scared as hell but curious as he’ll ever be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Louis’s reply is simpler and breezier and more inconspicuous than Harry could ever imagine saying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we should talk.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>__________</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry cracks his knuckles and twists his rings as he sits outside the cafe, </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> cafe, staring at the chocolate scone he pushed across the table to the invisible person in the other chair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was over a half an hour early, too anxious to occupy himself in his house any longer. He’d bought himself a coffee, but he was too nervous to drink it, and it had long since gone cold in front of him. The scone was for Louis, because Harry knew Louis liked the scones at the cafe, and he wanted to make a gesture of peace so Louis didn’t come into this conversation with his hands blazing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shakes the recurring “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m tired of feeling alone</span>
  </em>
  <span>”s and “</span>
  <em>
    <span>we haven’t spoke since you went away</span>
  </em>
  <span>”s from his head with the chime of the bell on the door. Before he looks up, he knows it’s Louis. He knows the way Louis walks and the way his feet fall on the floor, he knows that Louis’s hands are covered by the sleeves of that same damned jumper and Louis is feigning confidence when he’s really just as nervous as Harry is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After all - it’s been two years.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Louis greets softly when he approaches, not sitting down yet. Harry knows he hasn’t sat down because Harry hasn’t even looked at him yet, much less invited him to take a seat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Harry replies, abandoning his rings and letting his arms cross over his chest as his eyes crawl over Louis’s figure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I sit?” Louis motions towards the empty chair across from Harry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, um, I-” Harry clears his throat as Louis sits. “I bought you a scone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Louis chuckles, a smile that Harry knows is forced appearing on his face. “I noticed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry is completely aware of the fact that he’s blatantly staring at Louis. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Louis breaks the silence first, picking at his scone and refusing to meet Harry’s eyes. “So you gave the album a listen, then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s being nonchalant and cool, two things Harry never can be around Louis.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“More than a few times, actually,” Harry admits, his eyes falling to his lap. He begins to twist and tug at his rings again. “Listened to it all night.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And?” Louis prompts, and Harry knows that Louis knows what Harry wants to say, but he just wants to hear Harry say it out loud.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is it-” Harry cuts himself off, his face turning red and suddenly his fingernails are biting into his palm as he struggles to voice the epiphany he had the previous night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tries again: “Did you-” but he cuts himself off again with a shake of his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Harry,” Louis says softly, reaching his hand across the table as if he wanted to take Harry’s hand, but pulls back at the last second. “Look at me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry raises his head and meets Louis’s challenging blue eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighs and starts again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is it about me?” He asks quietly, still maintaining eye contact with Louis.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The challenge and confidence in Louis’s eyes seems to falter for a moment, turning sad and maybe even lonely, like Harry? But, after that split second where Louis’s facade crumbled, the challenge and confidence returns and he leans back in his chair, abandoning the scone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry panics, not knowing what Louis is going to say for the first time in forever. He clutches his shirt under his crossed arms hoping Louis can’t see how rigid his body is and praying that Louis can’t hear the “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m missing half of me</span>
  </em>
  <span>”and “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve been going out of my mind</span>
  </em>
  <span>” and “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I always think about you</span>
  </em>
  <span>” and “</span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t blame me for falling</span>
  </em>
  <span>” and “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I miss the shape of your lips, your wit</span>
  </em>
  <span>” and-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Louis’s face splits with a genuine smile and Harry’s head goes silent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to accuse me of writing an album about you when you wrote </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span> about me?” Louis laughs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry is speechless and embarrassed and realizes how </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span> his question was when Louis is right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Harry,” Louis cuts him off. “Don’t think I didn’t notice. It was obvious… the second verse you wrote for Falling was your side of the conversation we had here two years ago, when we broke up for real.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry doesn’t say anything, so Louis sighs and leans forward, elbows resting on the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘You said you cared and you missed me, too,’” He quoted, a coy smile tugging at his cheeks. “‘And I’m well aware that I write too many songs about you.’ Harry, I remember everything about you. I wasn’t going to forget our last conversation. You can’t sprinkle that into a song and expect me to not hear it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t-” Harry chokes out, but his voice can’t seem to make it any further.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Think of it as, I don’t know… the other side of the conversation.” Louis says with an air of finality, crossing his arms over his chest and watching Harry expectantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry doesn’t say anything, at first. He just stares.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you still love me?” is the only question that Harry can think of. He doesn’t want to hear the answer, but he so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> badly needs to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Louis purses his lips and his confidence slips again. He doesn’t answer for a while, either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I still do, I think.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry’s heart soars, because he loves Louis too, he wants him and “</span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re so golden</span>
  </em>
  <span>” explodes in his head, overwhelming him and making him tear up for a moment before Louis continues.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But we broke up for a reason, you know.”</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Harry’s soaring heart deflates and the lyrics disappear from his head, only to be replaced by a mournful ringing of “</span>
  <em>
    <span>the fact that we can sit right here and say goodbye</span>
  </em>
  <span>”.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I’ll always love you, at least a little bit. The thing is, Harry… we aren’t right for each other anymore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry bites back the “yes, we are!” that clawed its way up his throat. He chokes on the “I still love you, too!” that followed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What he allows himself to say is a melancholic “Lou…”, but he doesn’t have any other words that can follow it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Louis’s eyes are as broken as Harry’s when they meet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Louis shakes his head, bringing himself back to the cafe and out of the memories that Harry knows he was stuck in when he bore his heart for Harry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stands, says “thanks for the scone”, and begins to walk away when Harry can’t help himself anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I miss you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stops walking, but doesn’t turn around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I still want you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry can see Louis’s fists clenching and unclenching as he debates whether or not to turn and look at Harry, who is still seated at the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry gulps, screwing his eyes closed and ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach as he presents his last statement to Louis (and the world).</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I still love you. Always, </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> love you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Louis looks over his shoulder at Harry, taking in the hot tears that are rolling down Harry’s cheeks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turns and walks over softly, reaching to wipe the tears off Harry’s face. Harry closes his eyes and revels in the feeling that Louis is in front of him, caring for him, like he used to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry gasps softly when he feels Louis’s soft lips on his, tasting the faint chocolate of the scone that Louis had barely eaten. He feels full and his head pounds with swirls of “</span>
  <em>
    <span>we’re on fire</span>
  </em>
  <span>” and “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I just want it to be you and me forever</span>
  </em>
  <span>” and “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’d walk through fire for you</span>
  </em>
  <span>” and “</span>
  <em>
    <span>we’ll be alright</span>
  </em>
  <span>”.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As quick as Louis’s lips came, they went, leaving Harry alone at the cafe, a mirror image of what had happened two years ago when his heart broke for what he thought was the last time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was wrong.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>